Nowhere Else to Go
by Ellitheria
Summary: Five times Elizabeth Keen showed up at his door (five times that Donald Ressler slept on the couch) and one time she asked him to stay with her. [Keenler] Rated "T" through chapter 5, then "M"!
1. The First Time

**Title**: Nowhere Else to Go  
**Rating**: T (Chapters 1-5) M (Chapter 6)  
**Pairing**: Elizabeth Keen/Donald Ressler  
**Spoilers**: The Kingmaker, The Mombasa Cartel, The Scimitar, The Decembrist, Luther Braxton Conclusion, The Deer Hunter  
**Summary**: Five times Elizabeth Keen showed up at his door (five times that Donald Ressler slept on the couch) and one time she asked him to stay with her.

* * *

1.

The first time she showed up at his door, neither one of them knew what to say. They had been working together for some time, Ressler mused as he waited for her to reveal the reason she was there (and he knew there had to be one, because though they weren't close, he knew her well enough to know she was close to tears). But though they'd literally faced death together, her showing up at his front door was not something he expected. (Though, he'd never tell her, it made his heart beat a little faster, seeing her in his doorway).

And then the dam broke.

Looking back, he would recognize this at the first moment she had really opened up to him, let him in. And in doing so, she had opened the door for so much more.

"I didn't know where else to go."

Though it seemed like hours, it was merely seconds before he was holding the door open wider, motioning for her to come in. She looked lost, unsure of where to go (or why she was even here) and what to say. Before she registered that the door had closed behind her and Ressler had disappeared from view, a cold beer was placed in her fingers and Ressler's hands (large, warm) pushed her gently in the direction of the couch.

"Talk to me, Keen. Tell me what's going on."

And so she did.

Over a total of six beers (three for her and three for him) and an impressive pile of tissues, Elizabeth Keen told Ressler everything. About Tom, about the failed adoption, about the lies, the secrets, the shame, and the anger.

"I just... damn it! I knew, I knew and I ignored it for so long." She sniffled, took another sip of her beer, and Ressler stared at her, face unreadable, as he had been doing for the past hour. He had yet to offer any words of his own, and his silence only made her talk more to fill the uncomfortable lull. "I mean, I knew for months. When I found his escape box, or whatever the hell that was, I knew what he was. But I chose to ignore it, because I thought I wanted what he was offering that badly. I wanted the family, the white picket fence, the whole nine yards, and he seemed so perfect. He convinced me, the FBI ... everyone was under his spell. But I knew, the whole time, I just ... didn't let myself realize. There was always the doubt, the lingering what if."

She fell silent for a long time, staring at the wall, purposefully avoiding Ressler's gaze. Though she felt comfortable with him, the fire in his eyes scared her (possibly because she had no idea what could have ignited such a flame inside him).

Her silence gave Ressler time to sort through his own feelings and thoughts. He had many, many feelings (almost all negative, almost all directed toward Tom Keen, the bastard) but he finally settled on one: anger.

"Bastard," he finally spit out, and Liz looked up in shock and fear - fear that his anger was directed at her. She really needn't have worried. "He's such a bastard," he groused again, and wondered idly if his vocabulary would have been more impressive were he not slightly tipsy.

"Ressler, it's OK..." Liz started, placing a hand on his arm.

He shrugged it off in a huff, standing and running a hand through his hair (not perfectly styled for the first time, Liz thought, since she'd met him). His fingers caused locks of his dirty blond hair to stick in all directions and, if the situation had been different, Liz might have thought it cute.

But the situation was what it was, and her thoughts quickly turned.

"No, it's not OK. He's a bastard, to do that to you. To anyone! I mean, God knows I didn't like you when we first met-"

Liz winced, holding tighter onto her empty bottle and trying hard to not let that comment hurt as much as it did.

"-But you know, then I got to know you. You can be annoyingly persistent, to much of a damn goody-two shoes, but only when it fits you! And you frequently freeze up when it's not advisable or ignore orders you don't quiet like, but."

He paused here, considering.

Considering his words and the impact they would have, both immediately and delayed. He finally settled on words that conveyed the message he wanted to get across, but left out the most important parts. Parts of himself he was not yet ready to share.

"But those are only parts of you, Liz. The best parts of you have little to do with our work, and more to do with your heart, and who you are as a person. And the fact that Tom-bastard" (he really needed to work on his vocabulary) "lied to you all this time to ... to gain, what, exactly? Information? About you, Reddington, the FBI?" He paused again, realizing only now that he was pacing angrily on the floor. He stopped, forcing his feet to pause in their tracks. He took a steadying breath in, ran his fingers through his hair again. "How could he do that?"

How could he hurt someone like you?

How could he look at you every day - so trusting a person - and lie to your face?

How could his first thought not be "protect, protect, protect"?

Liz shrugged, and as she sighed, she slumped further into the coach. She looked very vulnerable, and Ressler's protective instinct kicked in once more. Like it had when she had been taken by the Stewmaker, when Anslo Garrick had held a gun to her head, when she had first walked through his door tonight. He picked up a blanket off the back of the coach and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"I don't have an extra bedroom." he began, and Liz looked up in surprise. As if he would have let me go back there tonight, she mused. She knew Ressler well, and she knew that if he thought she was in any danger, he would not be letting her out of his sight or the sight of someone trustworthy. She'd been in danger many times in the past, she thought as he stared at her, waiting for some sort of response. But he had never stayed with her - or had her stay with him. But she'd always been safe, with Red or someone else from the Post Office. This was different. There was no where else for her to go. Of course she would be staying here.

"I can take the couch," he continued. "You can have my room. Then, tomorrow, you can show me your house and we can figure out what to do."

We.

She knew he didn't meant it like that. He was her partner, of course he would help her. But the fact that she didn't have to face that house, the memories, alone, was comforting.

"Ok," she said, unsure what else would be appropriate. "Um." She picked at her the fabric of her clothing, which would be entirely too uncomfortable to sleep in.

"You can borrow some sweats to sleep in," Ressler said, and he stalked off to his bedroom, not offering a word to encourage her to follow, or for her to stay there, and Liz was left unsure what to do.

In the end, she scrambled to her feet, shuffling after him as the blanket fell away from her shoulders.

"Here," he said, as he dug around in one of his drawers. He handed her a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt that was sure to be far too big for her. She nodded her thanks, and he pointed her in the direction of the bathroom to change.

"Thanks," she whispered, hugging the clothing tightly to her chest. "You know. For everything."

Ressler smiled, a small, sad smile, and nodded.

"Anytime, Keen."

He walked out of the bedroom, closing the door half-way to offer her some privacy.

Liz looked around the room, observing little things that fit in very well with her profile of Ressler. The bed was neat, shoes and clothes put away cleanly in the closet and his dresser. His alarm clock was next to the bed, on a small table holding only a lamp, the clock, and small glass for water. Very neat, organized. But then she noticed a few things that she wasn't sure where to file. No pictures - of family, friends, anyone. It was more like a hotel room than the room of a man who had lived here for years. No books, decorations of any kind. Lonely, she mused, heading toward the bathroom. She opened the door and noticed the same thing inside here. Neat, organized, minimal. The only time she'd heard him mention anyone close to him was Audrey, she thought, quickly changing from her clothes (folded neatly, beside the sink for tomorrow) into the borrowed sweats. I wonder what his family is like.

"Liz?"

Liz was startled from her thoughts by the deep, masculine voice outside the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" she croaked, her voice more hoarse than she'd meant. Damn, did I really cry that much? she wondered, trying to clear her throat quietly.

"I found an extra toothbrush. And I have some towels in case you want to shower in the morning."

Liz nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. She reached out to open the door, letting him in the small room.

"Ah. Thank you. Um. Are you sure I can't take the couch?" she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious of everything he was doing for her.

"It's fine," he insisted, handing her the towels. "Really, Keen. Sleep well tonight, and tomorrow we'll deal with whatever may come."

He smiled at her then, and she felt herself responding. He turned to leave the bathroom, but she reached out a hand to stop him, wrapping her fingers around his forearm. He met her eyes, and she suddenly felt vaguely uncomfortable as his piercing blue eyes met hers. He was scowling, his trademark facial expression, but it seemed gentler than before.

"Thank you, Ressler. Really, I mean it. I crashed your night - hell, your weekend, after everything we're going to have to do tomorrow, and-"

"Liz," he interrupted her. "Stop. Don't worry about it. I'm... I'm glad you felt you could come to me."

She nodded, smiling again, and let her fingers slip off of his wrist. He walked away (he didn't miss the warmth of her small hand, he told himself. Of course he didn't), and she sighed deeply, turned out the bathroom light, and headed into the bedroom. She pulled back the covers, sliding between the sheets and breathing in the warm, masculine scent of his bedding.

That night, she slept better than she had in weeks.

* * *

_**Please review!**_

Feedback on how I am writing the characters/events is greatly appreciate! Also, this story is complete (mostly edited, too!) and I plan on updating regularly.


	2. Twice is Still Okay

#2

The second time Elizabeth Keen showed up at his door, it was more for his benefit than for hers. (Or, that was what she told herself, even though she was sure he'd be fine, because he was as stubborn as they come). If she was being honest with herself, she was there because she needed to know he was okay after the events of the day (or the week, or the month. Honestly she wasn't sure. She hadn't asked for specifics and he hadn't offered.)

"What are you doing here?"

His first words are not encouraging.

"I, uh-" Liz held up a 6 pack of his favorite beer. "I'm replacing the beer I shamelessly drank while crying on your couch last month?"

_Damn, why did that sound like a question?_ She hadn't meant for that to sound like a question. She was an independent woman, for fuck's sake. She didn't need an excuse to check on her (drug addicted, beat up, strung out) partner.

"I appreciate the beer. But that's not why you're here."

_Know it all._ Liz was pissed, both at Ressler for reading her so well and at herself, for being so transparent.

She sighed. "Can we have this conversation inside?"

Ressler grunted in response, but moved his body (god, the man looked like he was made of rock) out of her way.

"Keen, I'm fine."

"I didn't ask."

He stared at her, arms crossed, expression unreadable. She stared right back, setting the beer down so she didn't drop it. (Because honestly, she occasionally found herself weak in the knees when he stared at her like that, all dark and determined.)

"Could you just go ahead and ask, so I can drink the beer you so graciously replaced and then pass out?"

"What exactly is it you think I want to ask?"

Ressler snorted, waving his hands noncommittally in the air around him.

"Obviously you'd like to poke your nose where it doesn't belong and be the hero, saving me from myself and my drugs. Well guess what, Liz, I don't need your help. I'm fine. I never meant for you to find out. You did your duty - go home."

Liz pursed her lips so tightly they went numb. She stared hard at Ressler, remembering him just a few hours before breaking down in front of her. And now he had closed himself off again, protecting himself against any possible emotion that could worm it's way inside the carefully constructed walls he had hastily shoved up after losing Audrey.

"Ressler," she began, and really, she couldn't be held responsible for what she said at this point. She was exhausted, had been worried about her partner for a solid 14 hours (about 8 of them worried for his life as he was hunted by a seriously sick man in Bumfuck, Alaska, and the remaining 6 worried for his life because instead of asking for help or comfort from a friend, he had gotten himself hooked on drugs) and pissed off because he was basically being a big baby. "You are not a project. I am not trying to be a hero! I -"

"You what, Liz? Because its been a long ass day and if you don't mind I'd like to get drunk and forget it."

"I'm worried," she finished quietly, failing to hold onto her anger as the truth seeped out of her. She was saddened by the anger Ressler so clearly harbored. He was so pissed - at the world, the mission, the job, even HER, which she tried not to take personally but did. (It was hard not to).

Ressler scoffed, but as he spoke she could hear his words cracking, and she knew his harshness came from the fact that he wanted her _out of his house_ before he broke down, as he was obviously so close to doing. His eyes misted over as he took his anger out on his partner.

"Please, just leave me the fuck alone. I don't need you to worry, I don't WANT you to worry. No one asked you to! I don't need _you_, I don't need -"

His words were cut off as Liz (in a very spur of the moment move that she hoped didn't ruin everything between them, the trust that had taken months to build, the friendship that she wasn't even sure was friendship) slowly approached Ressler and wrapped her arms around him.

The dam broke, and Ressler cried like he hadn't allowed himself to since Audrey died. He sank to his knees, and Liz followed him, holding him like he had done for her when the Stew Maker had traumatized her.

"What's wrong with me? I fuck everything up," he moaned, his fingers finding the fabric of her shirt and clasping on for dear life. It was a weird position, Liz mused, both of them on their knees, her arms around them and his fingers knotted in the back of her shirt, holding her to him.

She couldn't have moved even if she wanted to.

"Shhh..." she soothed him. "There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing. You're the strongest person I know. We work a shitty job, where shitty things happen. People die, people get hurt, and at the end of the day we're left wondering if it's even worth it. "

"It is, " Ressler croaked, clearing his throat. He sounded like he was finished crying, but his grip hadn't loosened on her shirt. She was afraid for the moment it did, because she didn't want the situation to grow awkward as situations did when one was finished breaking down in front of their partners. "It has to be worth it, or how do we keep going on every day? Knowing everyone we love is dead because of the job? That we have no life - no one to come home to, no kids, nothing - because of the job? If it's not enough, Liz, then..."

He left the rest unspoken, but the intention, the silent words, made her heart ache (both for him and for herself because she, too, had lost everything and everyone she loved because of the damn job).

_Then I have no reason to go on._

"She was pregnant. Audrey."

Liz isn't sure what shocked her more - Ressler's sudden movements that cause them both to be sitting on the floor, right in front of each other, breathing each other's air, or his words.

"I chased Reddington for 5 years. I lost Audrey to my obsession. I thought then that I had no reason to go on, nothing to live for but the job. Then the bastard turns himself in, to _you_, and I don't know how I made it through those first few days before we had the Blacklist and another reason to go out there everyday."

He paused, and Liz held her breath, afraid to say anything for fear he'd stop talking. Finally he continued, and Liz found herself nervously playing with the fingers on his hand as he spoke. He noticed, smiled a little, but didn't try to stop her.

"Reddington is a first class asshole. But he brought Audrey back in my life, and suddenly my world had meaning again. And then... " He swallowed thickly. "And after, I found this pregnancy test. And it was positive, and I was going to be a dad, and-"

He breaks off, because he can't speak any more. He literally can't force the words out, he's not even sure why he's telling her. But he is and she's listening and her heart breaks for him, because he's so strong a person. He's a confident and protective and beautiful man, and he's irreparably broken because a baby, _his baby_, died before he could even met them, and it's too much for anyone to wrap their mind around, even someone as strong as Ressler.

But the look on his face as he meets Liz's eyes again. Liz is crying, too, before she can even comprehend why. But the sight of his eyes! Electric blue with tears, staring at her with such vulnerability through thick lashes - it's more than she can bare.

"Oh my god, Ressler," she whispers, and there's nothing more to say. She doesn't miss how he moves his hand away from hers, but she only misses the contact for a second before his warm skin returns, entwining his fingers with hers before he drops his head back against the wall.

"I'll survive. I always find a way."

Liz shuffles closer to him, sitting next to him, not mentioning the light contact of their hands but relishing in it.

"You shouldn't have to. If anyone deserves -"

She can't finish her sentence, but she doesn't need to. He understands.

"That's why," he says, some five minutes later, after his tears have dried and he can pretend like he never broke down in front of her. "The drugs. I know everyone always has an excuse, and I know it's not good enough - I have to stop, for me, for you - I have to keep you safe - but that's why. I just didn't want to feel anything for a while."

She nods. She doesn't say she understands, because she doesn't, her pain is very different even if it is just as strong. But she nods because she understands he has admitted he needs help and that he is hurting and can't brush it off.

There's a lot of silence, and then,

"You can have my room again. I still want to get blackout drunk, but I don't want to do it alone anymore. You're here, it's late, we both have monumentally horrible lives, and we should watch football and get drunk and not feel for a while."

Liz nods. "What else do you have besides beer?"

Ressler grins, and though Liz recognizes that being drunk is not a healthy solution to your problems, she is happy to see her partner focusing on something less meaningful and less painful.

"I'm glad you ask."

— ~ — ~ —

She stays in his room again, and tries not to think about how well she sleep in this unfamiliar environment, surrounded by the scent of her partners cologne, with the sounds of him shuffling around outside the door in the living room.

It's only the second time it's happened, and she's becoming concerned by how comfortable it feels, how easy it is.

"Goodnight, Liz," she hears from the other toom, and the smile that graces her lips is unconscious.

"Goodnight, Ress."

This will be the last time, she promises herself. For sure the last time.

Good plan.

* * *

Aaaaaaaand part 2 is up! I like this one better than part one, and part 3 (and 4 and 5) are even more exciting and angst-filled! :)

_**Please Review**_! Let me know how I'm doing with the characters and situations.


	3. Third Time's the Charm

#3

_(Tag to The Simitar)_

"At this point, we should start a beer fund," Ressler said dryly as he opened the door to reveal a sheepish Agent Elizabeth Keen. _Third times the charm_, he joked internally, chuckling to himself as she walked past him and into his (very green) living room. This was becoming a habit of theirs, and he wondered idly (though not with any preference one way or the other) whether he'd be on the couch again tonight or not.

"We probably should. A dollar a day should fund our current beer needs."

Liz put the 6-pack down on the living room table and shook of her coat. She rested it along with her scarf and hat on the back of the chair that no one ever seemed to sit in.

"Although," she continued. "I'm sure it would help if we didn't consume the entire thing in one night. Let's see if we can stick to just one or two tonight, shall we?"

"Do we have plans I wasn't informed of?" Ressler asked. Her presence was not unwelcome, however he hadn't known until he'd opened the door 19 seconds ago that she was coming over.

"I - "

Liz faltered, not sure what to say.

_I didn't want to leave you alone after the hospital pumped you full of drugs and you mentioned you'd felt better than you had in weeks._

_I was afraid the real Bethesda had given you more drugs for the pain and wanted to see what happened - if you took them or not._

_I didn't want to be alone tonight._

_I needed to see you again to make sure I wasn't just convincing myself you were alive, and that you really are and your severe injuries were indeed all part of a bigger plot to gain information._

None of them were a proper fit for the good mood Ressler had going on (despite the day's events). So instead, Liz spoke a lesser truth.

"I wanted to watch TV and drink beer to end this horrible day, and didn't really want to do it alone in my hotel room.

_There. Less serious, but completely true._

"What's on tonight?" Ressler asked, grabbing the 6-pack and walking into the kitchen. "A favorite TV show or something?" He popped his head back out a second later, holding two already chilled beers. He was still grinning, and Liz had no idea how he could be so cheerful after being beat up, pumped full of drugs, chased around a fake hospital, and debriefed for two solid hours. She was certainly still holding onto some dregs of crankiness.

Liz shrugged. "I didn't have anything specific in mind. I was hoping we could find a good movie or something.."

"Awesome," Ressler said, handing her an open beer and kicking his feet up on the coffee table as he sat down on the couch. Liz joined him a few seconds later, after kicking off her shoes. He passed her the remote as he took a drink of beer.

"Bethesda gave me more pain meds," he said offhandedly, causing Liz's fingers to falter on the controller, accidentally skipping two channels.

"Oh?" she asked, trying to appear politely interested and nothing more (which didn't work too well, as Ressler knew immediately from the red that suddenly appeared in her cheeks that her heart was beating faster with anticipation).

"Yeah," he said, grateful to be able to offer the information on his own. She had allowed him the freedom to kick his nasty habit on his own, and he felt immense relief that she was going to stick to her deal to not pester him (or to turn him in). He just knew she was dying to ask him about it even if she didn't. Also he wasn't dumb - far from it, in fact. He knew she had many reasons for being here, but one was definitely to make sure he wasn't high as a kite after their day from hell. (Or was it just a normal day anymore? Seemed to him it wasn't another day at the office unless someone was kidnapped or beat up).

"Did you, uh, take any?"

He shook his head, downing another swig of beer. "Nah. I flushed them down the sink."

Liz whipped her head around in surprise, completely forgetting that she was trying to find something good on TV. "You what?"

Ressler grinned, amused that she was so surprised, and a little bit proud that this was the information he had to offer. (Although, he chastised himself, this wasn't something to be proud of. Normal people didn't have drug addictions to begin with. Only fuck-ups did).

"I, uh," he took his eyes off of her, nudging her hand to remind her that they were not going to watch the nature channel and that she should continue looking through the channels. He also needed an excuse not to look her in the eye. "I thought a lot. About what you said… at the office."

_The thought of having to live without me. It must have been terrifying._

_It was._

Normally, Liz went along with his dry humor and he had been expecting her to be sarcastic back or tell him it wasn't awful at all. But then she had to get all serious, and he'd spent a better part of that two hour debrief thinking about her words and the steely seriousness in her eyes as she'd spoken to him.

_It was._

Liz dutifully kept her eyes off of his, knowing he needed to speak to the wall to talk about feelings (honestly, men) and finally settled on what looked like a promising movie on ABC. "And?"

"And I realized I can't afford to screw up. I almost got you killed in Warsaw. I could have been killed yesterday, and you're right - it would suck to have to live without you. I don't want to find another partner," he ended gruffly, coughing and moving his gaze from the wall to the ceiling.

They were silent for a few moments, neither one of them comfortable with the serious atmosphere of the room.

"Oh, God, this is that horrible chick flick Audrey liked so much," Ressler groaned, rolling his eyes when he realized that movie was on TV. _Bridget Jones Diary_. It had its funny parts - he would admit to laughing a few times, but the main woman was just too much.

"Should I change it?" Liz asked, her hand poised over the remote to switch the channel.

Ressler shook his head slowly. "Nah, leave it on. There's a funny part coming up."

(Really, he should have been concerned how easy it was to say this. Recently, things that reminded him of Audrey made him smile, instead of clench up in gut-wrenching, almost physical pain.)

"She used to be the first thing I thought of every morning," he said, quietly, and Liz was looking at the screen but paying attention to his every word. "It was horrible. I'd wake up, and roll over, and she wasn't there and it would take me a few minutes to be able to move because the pain was numbing."

Liz swallowed hard. This was personal - not that they hadn't talked about personal things before (Tom, his drugs) but this was different. This was still raw (or maybe not so much, anymore. She_ used to be_ the first thing I thought of.)

"And then one day I woke up, and wondered where I put my shoes the night before. And then I thought of Audrey, and I felt bad, because she wasn't the first thing on my mind." Ressler took another drink of beer, and finally turned to face Liz, who was staring at him wide-eyed, unsure what to say or do. "I'm sorry, Liz. If you don't want to talk about… I mean, is it OK that I talk about her sometimes?"

Liz stared at him for about twelve more seconds, and then slapped him (gently) upside the head.

"Don't be dumb, Ressler. Of course it's OK. If you're willing to talk, I want to listen. Do you realize how hard it is to get information out of you? Sometimes, I feel like I barely know you."

"Ah," Ressler sighed, and then glanced at the TV (grinned, Bridget was sliding down the fireman's pole, great scene) and then spoke again. "I had a horrible day, that first day she wasn't the first thing on my mind. But then it happened again, and again, and then she was the third thing I thought of. The first time I went a whole day without thinking about her, I couldn't sleep. At all. That… that was the day I took those drugs, because I couldn't sleep. It shouldn't have surprised me how much they numbed me - I didn't think of her or anything else for about eight hours. I slept like a baby." He shrugged. "And then I just didn't stop."

"And now?" Liz asked, and Ressler wasn't sure what question she was asking.

_And now, do you still think of her when you wake up?_

_And now, are you still taking the drugs?_

_And now, do you still feel bad that you forget to think of Audrey?_

"I haven't used since Sitka, if that's what you're asking," he said, finishing off his beer and setting it on the coffee table.

They were quiet for a minute more. Then, Liz spoke.

"It took me a while to stop thinking of Tom. I know it's not the same," she added quickly. "Your girlfriend wasn't a spy sent to marry you to get information about the FBI. But it still hurt, knowing he'd betrayed me. But I don't think of him as much anymore."

"It's weird to move on," Ressler decided, and then sighed. "Want another beer? I'm still feeling like an open book. I certainly need more to drink."

Liz nodded, handing him her empty bottle and wondering what else he could possibly share. (It seemed like, between the two of them, they should have been worn raw by what happened and by what they'd shared with each other in the past month. Speaking about these things should have been like rubbing an exposed nerve, but it wasn't. And that was partially what made her uncomfortable, the fact that she was so comfortable).

"I'm gonna say something simply because I'm on a roll of sharing horribly personal things that I'm sure I'll regret tomorrow," Ressler said, popping the cap of her new beer and handing it to her. "But it sucks to carry your pain around and not share it with anyone, and you just happen to be the person listening to me."

"Go ahead," Liz said. "I'll share something when you're done, if it makes you more comfortable."

Ressler chuckled darkly. "Keen, _nothing_ \- no secrets you have, nothing you've ever done - is quite as horrible as what I'm going to say."

He was quiet for a minute. But, then he said it anyway. Without fear of being rejected by his partner, without fear of disgusting her, without fear of pushing her away. (And, at this point, he really needn't have worried about these things, because she was pretty sure that unless he was skinning cats, nothing he said could surprise her)

She was wrong (though, she wasn't disgusted, just shocked - she hoped it didn't show on her face).

"I'm relieved, most days, that my baby died. God, how messed up is that? That's seriously fucked up," he said, and he pressed the cold glass of his beer to his head. He closed his eyes and shook his head, feeling only partially better having shared his darkest secret.

"Maybe," Liz said quietly. "To someone who doesn't understand. It's not like you killed your baby, Ress. You - I think I understand. You didn't want a child born to you who was always in danger, screwed up because he or she was always being hunted by the horrible people on the Blacklist."

"Right," he nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "Don't get me wrong, Keen. I didn't want Audrey to die - that was the_ last thing_ I ever wanted. But she didn't tell me, you know. Before it happened. I don't know what I would have done, if she'd told me she was pregnant. I'm never home before eight or nine at night, and I leave most mornings at 7am. I am kidnapped, beaten up, drugged, hunted, shot at and chased after on a weekly basis. Hell, a daily basis! I'd be a horrible father. Audrey and the baby would always be in danger. I mean, take you and Reddington. He likes you - for whatever unknown, creepy ass reason. You're not even related, yet you've been sought after by his enemies, kidnapped, and had a gun to your head more than once simply because you're important to him. A wife and baby? They wouldn't have ever left me alone. If Audrey had told me, I can't say with confidence how I would have reacted. I may have left them.

Thrown them into protective custody and never saw them again. Maybe I would have tried to make it work - though, of course, it couldn't have."

Liz nodded, listening quietly. "I think that's what finally made me say no to Tom about the adoption."

Ressler agreed, nodding and taking another drink of his beer. "Most days, I'm relieved I never had to find out what horrible choice I would have made. Because really, there was no good way that situation ended. I sometimes think I would have been excited to have a kid. A little Ressler. But then… Keen, people like us, we don't get kids. Maybe we get to have a husband or a wife. Preferably someone we can talk to about our jobs - someone with clearance. But never kids. Meera managed it, I don't know how, but now she's dead and her kids don't get a mom. It's kind of a lot to think about. Knowing that this job we chose cases us to have to give up so much. I loved Audrey. I still love her. But … " He paused, sliding his hand over hers to take the remote and mute the TV. "God, I loved her so much."

"But?" Liz prompted, folding her legs under her body as she turned to face him on the couch. She wanted to comfort him, reach out in some way, but she didn't know what would be accepted and what would be turned away. But her heart broke a little more when she saw tears (frustrated, angry, sad, she wasn't sure what emotion they were created from) gather in the corners of her eyes.

"I hate myself every single day for it, but sometimes I find myself relieved that I don't have to keep living that life of fear, of secrets, of lies and always breaking promises. I feel relieved that Audrey is dead because that the coward's way out, Liz. Instead of letting her move on, I trapped her again in a relationship and now I feel relieved that it's over."

Liz reached out and touched his hand, encouraged when he didn't pull away. She wrapped her fingers around his hand and tugged to pull his attention back to her.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Ress. I hope I can help you see that nothing you just said to me - not a single word of it - makes you a bad person, or a coward, or a fuck up. It makes you human. A human who is hurting … more than anyone should ever have to hurt."

A single tear slipped from his eye, and Liz wiped it away from his warm cheek without comment. "You loved her in a way that not many people love. She was lucky to have you for as long as she did - and she knew that, or she wouldn't have taken your grumpy ass back."

Ressler chuckled, and Liz knew she was bringing him back from the precipice. He was angry and sad, and it was all amplified by the lack of drugs in his system, throwing his emotions and hormones off track. Honestly, he was the poster child for drug withdrawal. He had gone cold turkey off of his drugs for two weeks, with crankiness and a few tears being the only symptoms she had seen so far.

"You loved her, Ressler, in a way most people are jealous of. She was a good person, and of course you miss her every single day. But it's not unnatural to feel relieved that she escaped your crazy life."

Liz pulled her hand back from his face, meeting his eyes one final time before he reached a hand up to wipe at the tears that hadn't fallen yet but were threatening to.

"This movie truly is horrible. Funny, though," he said, clearing his throat and pulling away from her. She let him. "Let's finish it, have another beer, and get some sleep."

She smiled, settling back onto the couch. (A bit closer to him this time, he noticed. He didn't comment. Her presence was oddly comforting to him, anchoring him to reality.)

"You can have my room again," he said, and she nodded.

"I'll cook breakfast before we go in to work tomorrow, in return for devouring half of the 6-pack again. God, we have to stop that."

Ressler chuckled. "Next time. Next time we can simply have a night in and not discuss near death or past relationships or any other shitty topic. Deal?"

Liz nodded. "Next time, then."

It only occurred to her later that, for the first time, they had actually (kind of, sort of) planned a next time.

* * *

I hope I'm staying true to Ressler's character. He's kind of hard to write, but I felt like the show didn't do justice to him in this situation. He went through a horrible ordeal, and they didn't barely touch on it. :( Poor Ressler. *hugs*

_**Please review!**_


	4. Four is a Habit

#4

_(Tag to The Decembrist)_

"No need to bring it up, Liz, I did what I thought was best - and I stand by it. You getting in trouble because of what Tom did does nothing to help anyone. I'd do it again. It was the most logical conclusion," Ressler commented, climbing the stairs to his apartment slowly as Liz followed behind him. They were both still dressed in suits, having just come from work.

_"Want to have that quiet night in, like we talked about?" Ressler's voice had been casual, but from the way that he didn't quite meet Liz's eyes she knew he was nervous about asking her. He leaned up against her side of the desk, tapping his fingers on her chair._

_(Something was changing between them, but she couldn't put her finger on it and it scared her to think about for too long, so she just didn't)_

_She grinned. "Sure. Pizza?"_

_Ressler nodded, adjusting his tie as he hesitantly smiled (the same boyish grin he'd given her after asking if he should rough up Tom for her). "Great. Uh, since you, you know, usually end up staying the night, want to just take my car and ride with me to work tomorrow?"_

_Liz nodded, grabbing her coat from the back of her chair. Ressler held the door of their shared office open and they walked together._

"Still," Liz said, placing her hand on her arm as they came to a stop at the top of the stairs. "Thank you. I know you don't like lying or disobeying orders. Whenever I'm around, you end up going against what you believe."

Ressler began searching for his keys as he spoke. "I used to do everything by the book, you're right. But if you'd been paying enough attention lately, you'd have noticed that I don't care as much anymore, especially when people are in trouble. I'd have thought you'd have noticed, being a profiler and all."

Ressler was turned away from her, but Liz could just imagine the smirk on his face as he spoke.

"In all seriousness, though, Liz, you did the right thing. You got important information out of him - though not necessarily in a way I or the bureau approves of - and made sure you had backup when you needed it by getting me involved. For now, you're safe. Cooper thinks Reddington is your source, and he has no reason to doubt me. But the shit will hit the proverbial fan soon enough, because T-"

He stopped talking suddenly, his key halfway in the lock. He backed up a few steps from the door, placing a finger over his lips to let her know she should be quiet.

"I didn't leave my door unlocked," he whispered, pulling his gun from his shoulder holster. He quickly clicked the safety off and, making sure Liz was safely behind him, he turned the door handle and shoved it open, moving his body lithely into his entryway.

He heaved out a hugely irritated sigh as he saw the body of Raymond Reddington on his couch, enjoying one of his beers.

"What. In the hell," Ressler growled, letting Liz step from behind him but not putting his weapon down. "Are you doing in my fucking house?"

"Manners, Donald. Really. Did your mother never teach you how to be polite to a house guest?" Raymond grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he held his arms wide, crossing one leg over the other. He was the picture of ease, spread out in the green living room.

"Reddington," Liz said in surprise, moving in front of Ressler to see the man sprawled out on the couch.

"Liz!" Reddington called, delighted. "What a surprise." (He didn't seem surprised at all.)

"What are you doing here?" she asked, more confused than angry.

"Why, I simply wanted to talk to you, and since I couldn't find you at that horrendous hotel room, I figured you may be here, since you and Donald have been spending so much time together as of late." He grinned, enjoying the sudden discomfort in the room as Ressler and Liz both shuffled along the carpet. "And for the love of God, Donald, put the gun away."

Ressler complied, but not without letting Reddington know exactly how he felt about the whole situation.

"I need to talk to Liz about Tom. Interesting development, that!" Reddington laughed deeply, grinning again. "Donald, I had_ no idea_ Lizzie was going to let you in on this secret. She wouldn't even tell _me_ what was going on!" He looked appropriately shocked as he shook his head. "I had to find out myself."

"Yeah, well I'm also ahead of you on her speed dial."

Reddington winced. "You wound me, Donald. You really do."

"I need milk."

Ressler turned on his heel to stalk out the door. Then he paused. "Liz, will you be alright?"

She turned and smiled at him, nodding. "Yes, I'll be fine. Reddington is an ally we want in this whole Tom situation. Let me talk to him, then we can have a quiet night in. Promise."

Ressler nodded, then walked out the door, slamming it harder then was probably necessary.

"Yes, very interesting indeed. Tell me, Lizzie, how long has this been going on with Donald?"

Liz blanched. Then she sniffed indignantly and sat down across from Red in the chair that no one ever seemed to sit in.

"I don't know what you're talking about and even if I did, that's not why you're here, is it?"

"Correct, as always." Reddington twirled his umbrella on the floor, regarding Dembe who was standing silently in the corner. "Lizzie, we need to talk about Tom."

"I'll tell you whatever you need to know. No more than that."

"That's fair. Alright. Start at the beginning. Tell me what you will about Tom."

Reddington settled himself in, getting comfortable as Liz began.

"I thought I could kill him. But I was being stupid, of course I couldn't. I... didn't know what to do, so I told myself that I was keeping him for information. I assume you know all this, of course."

Raymond pursed his lips and nodded. "I surmised as much, yes. Please, keep going. Tell me what prompted you to tell Donald of your secret."

Liz worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "I don't actually know. I needed information on Fitch and we needed to know where he was. Tom said he couldn't tell me unless he was free. I freaked. I could deal with Tom tired up and chained, but Tom free was to much. So I told Ressler and he came with me. Oh and you should know, he lied for me. He told Cooper that you're my informant. So, you know, if he asks you. Don't throw Ressler under the bus."

Reddington chuckled. "Lizzie, you think so little of me. I've grown quite fond of Donald. Sharing a near death experience will do that to you."

He paused, and the room was silent for several moments. Then,

"Thank you for telling me, Liz. I wish you'd have come to me sooner but the important thing is that you did tell me."

Liz nodded, fiddling with her fingers as a distraction as Reddington got to his feet.

"One more thing, Liz. I know it often seems my purpose in life is to show up when you least expect it and occasionally to ask questions that seem entirely to personal. But you and Donald."

"Ah," Liz held up one hand. "Stop right there."

Red held up his hands in surrender. "All I want to say is this. You deserve the very best in the world, in everything. Including love. And while I often don't seem like Donald's biggest fan, he is the kind of man that gives one hundred and ten percent to everything he does and everyone he loves. And Liz, that's something you deserve."

Liz was silent as Reddington stood to leave. He patted her on the shoulder, twirled his hat onto his head, and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

...

"He gone?"

Ressler's voice rang out through the house as Liz poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Yeah, and the pizza is here. Geez, it takes you a god awful long time to get milk."

"I also got coke, so that maybe we can salvage some of my beer."

Liz chuckled, and as she caught sight of his smile, she thought of Reddington's words.

You deserve that.

She smiled at Ressler for what was probably too long to be socially acceptable, then cleared her throat to dispel any awkwardness her starting had created. She wasn't sure what she wanted - or what Ressler wanted - but the seed had been planted, and she had a lingering feeling that was Reddington's entire plan (because, really, he already knew everything he had asked her about) and she felt a sudden flash of irritation at the older man.

She pushed that feeling aside and turned her attention to one of the discoveries she had made while he was out.

"While snooping through your movies, I discovered you have a Wii. And also Wii bowling."

Ressler paused as he was putting the milk and coke in the fridge.

He looked positively horrified.

"No."

His voice was firm and on the edge of panic. It made Liz grin even wider. "Oh, yes, Don. We are going to play Wii bowling and you are going to like it."

"I'm going to kill my brother for ever bringing that infernal contraption into my house," he groaned, and Liz clapped happily as she realized she'd already won that argument.

"Wait. Hold the phone. Brother?"

Ressler nodded. "Remember that conversation about those we love being a weakness for blacklisters to exploit? I keep my family on the down low. I also have an adorable nephew."

"I never would have guessed."

Ressler shrugged. "Then I guess I did my job well."

"I must meet this brother and adorable nephew sometime so I can question them as to how you became uptight, secretive Special Agent Donald Ressler."

"Not happening, Keen. They would enjoy spilling my darkest secrets entirely too much. You said something about bowling? According to the top scores, my nephew kicks ass. However, I am not far behind him and am going to wipe the floor with you."

"Bring it."

And, despite a rocky start to the evening with conversations of Tom Keen and Raymond Reddington, they did manage to have that relaxing night in.

Even though Liz beat Ressler 10 to 1 in bowling and he ended up sleeping on the couch again.

It was still, he mused before falling asleep, the best night he'd had in a long time.

* * *

Sorry this took so long to get up! I hope you enjoyed it!

_**Please Review!**_


	5. Five is Just the Beginning

#5

_(Tag to Luther Braxton Conclusion)_

_"Don't!"_

Her voice rang out (shrill, on the edge of panic) and had Ressler moving down the stairs before he knew what he was doing. He was stealing a blanket from an EMT and wrapping it around her shoulders before he really understood what was happening.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling her from both the chair and Reddington's gaze as quickly as he could. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now."

She was shivering, leaning heavily on him as he led her up the stairs.

"Please," she whispered, reaching with trembling fingers to grasp the fabric of his shirt. She entwined her fingers in the lapel of his suit and held on, shivering. Ressler nodded, kept walking, and pulled her away from the curious gaze of the woman who had put her under and forced her to relive those carefully tucked away memories. "Please get me out of here."

"I will. Come on, Liz. Let's get you checked out and then get you home."

"Don't wanna go home," she murmured, letting him lower her onto the back of an ambulance. He took the blanket from her shoulders and rearranged it, tucking it around her much like a child wraps themselves in a security blanket.

"Hey," Ressler called to one of the EMTs. When he didn't get a response, he yelled, "HEY!" and the young man turned around, clearly surprised to see someone sitting on the back of the ambulance.

"Hey, dude. Sorry, didn't see you there."

"Whatever," Ressler said, annoyed by the young man (obviously he'd just recently earned the job, he looked like he was fourteen). "Check her out, please, and tell me what I need to do to take her home."

"Can do. What happened?"

"Classified, and you don't have clearance. She was drugged pretty good, though. So make sure she's fine so we can go."

As Ressler was speaking, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Reddington had exited the building. Without thinking, he shifted his body so Liz was covered as the EMT began taking her vitals. He purposely didn't meet Red's gaze as the older man walked past. He tipped his hat and got into the back of a black sedan, then drove off. Ressler hadn't realized until that point that how much of the tension in his shoulders came from the presence of Reddington, and now that he was gone, he was able to relax a little.

"So?" he prompted, rubbing a hand over his weary eyes.

"Right. So, she looks fine. A little, um, out of it? And also she was given some pretty heavy sedatives, and that mixed with whatever traumatic thing happened in there, she's gonna be a little, um, out of it for the rest of the night. You're her partner, right?"

"Yeah," Ressler snapped, growing impatient with the young man. "Can we go?"

"Sure, as long as you know someone who can stay with her tonight. I mean, I'm sure she'll be fine. But just in case she wakes up or falls asleep while driving or something."

Ressler had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes as he reached for his partner again.

"I was planning on staying with her anyway."

He didn't even bother to thank the young man before gripping Liz's shoulders and steering her in the direction of his car.

"I wouldn't fall asleep driving," she groused, clearly annoyed by the EMT. "I'm not that fragile."

Ressler didn't bother to mention the fact that she hadn't turned down his offer to both drive and stay with her. (They both knew he would be staying with her with or without her permission).

"Home?"

Liz tensed under his touch, her hands shaking as she reached for the door handle.

"Um, your place?" she countered, and Ressler nodded.

"Of course, I'm sorry, that's what I meant."

The drive was silent, with Liz staring out the window and Ressler gripping the steering wheel tighter than was probably healthy for the car.

He wasn't sure if he was more worried, or more pissed.

Worried for his partner, and pissed at Reddington - the two feelings were fighting for dominance as he carefully wound through traffic. He'd busted into the room to see Reddington leaning over Liz, keeping her under and reliving those horrible memories, to find out information to benefit himself (and, to be fair to the man, probably other people as well. If he would just not_ keep so many fucking secrets_, people would be more inclined to trust him!)

It made Ressler's blood boil as he thought of the look on Reddington's face, partially lit by the lamp. His eyes had been shining, obsessed, so determined to get the information he wanted. Yes, he cared for Liz's safety, her physical safety, and had made sure the risk to her was as minimal as possible. But he hadn't cared for her emotional well-being, choosing instead to search for the information hidden deep in her subconscious. He had kept digging, knowing full well the memories of the fire were among the worst that Liz carried.

"Hey."

The quiet voice of Liz broke Ressler from his thoughts. He reached out a hand a gripped her leg lightly, smiling a tight lipped smile as he drove in through the now green light. "Hey, Liz. How are you feeling?"

She blew out a large breath, playing with the fabric of the blanket still wrapped around her.

"Just... tired, and... and so confused. And I want to get clean. I can still feel their fingers all over me."

Ressler gripped the steering wheel even tighter. _God, if those men hadn't already been arrested..._

"Did they...?"

"No. No, they just shoved me, and tied me down, and Luther kept t-touching my face."

"Ok. Ok, that's fine. You can get clean as soon as we get home, then."

Ressler could see that Liz was growing more upset as the drugs wore off and as she talked about what had happened. He squeezed her fingers one more time, smiling at her before turning his attention back to the road. He was almost home, then two flights of stairs, and he could do more for his partner and not feel as helpless.

Only minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, sliding into a spot near his building. He shifted the car into park, opened his door, and was helping Liz out of the car only seconds later.

"Ok, stairs, Liz, we've got stairs, you've gotta help me out here."

Ressler grunted under the weight of his slightly sedated partner.

"Almost there. I need to get my keys. Lean against the door if you need to."

Ressler dug around in his pockets for a second, finally producing the keys he was looking for.

Then they were inside his apartment and Liz was looking a little lost and he didn't know what to do.

"Talk to me, Keen. Tell me how you're doing and what I can do for you."

"I, uh, I feel better. Less drugged, less angry."

"Great. Shower, then?"

Liz suddenly stiffened and grabbed Ressler's sleeve. Her eyes were wide and her breath was coming in fast, short gaps.

_water_

_pouring over her face_

_in her mouth_

_she couldn't breathe_

_screaming out for it to stop-_

"Ah, shit," Ressler groaned, suddenly realizing what the bucket half filled with water next to the soaked cloth and wooden table meant. "No showers, I'm an idiot, Keen. No showers. Sorry. A bath, no water on your face at all. That sound better?"

As he spoke, Ressler peeled the blanket from her shoulders and helped her out of her coat.

"Fine. Bath is better," she mumbled, and as she stumbled with Ressler through the house she tried very hard to regain some semblance of dignity. She was a quivering, pathetic mess and she was almost sure she was in shock. Ressler seemed to have realized the same thing because he kept trying to warm her, rubbing her arms as they walked.

"Alright, Liz. We're in the bathroom. I'm going to let you run the bath. I'm going to go get some towels from the linen closet and some clean clothes for you. I'll be right back."

Ressler left the room and suddenly Liz felt lost. She reached out and turned on the hot tab as far as it would go, adding cold a little at a time until it was just barely too hot for her to stand. Her hands were shaking as she knelt down next to the clawfoot tub, waiting for the water to fill.

She could feel her breath coming faster and her heart beating harder as she listened to the water splashing in the tub, occasionally throwing a stray droplet out onto her bare skin. She clenched her fists, determined to be able to do this one simple thing without Ressler.

_She could run a bath without help, dammit._

Liz pushed her fists into her eyes until she saw stars, trying to block out the visceral memory of the water pouring onto her face, into her nose, down her throat, choking her and causing her to spit and sputter in a vain attempt to draw breath. She had felt like she was drowning, and the roaring in her ears now was making it impossible to see, feel, or hear anything else.

"Liz! Elizabeth! Can you hear me?"

She could hear a new buzzing in her ears, but she couldn't make out the words. She couldn't see in front of her, but she could feel the warmth of two large hands on her shoulders, pulling her body forward into an almost heavenly embrace. Warm, safe...

"Shouldn't have left you alone," she heard the warmth mumble. "Waterboarding seriously screws with people."

Her was no longer talking to her but that was ok. Until suddenly he was, and she had to focus on him again.

"Liz, focus. We're going to need to go about this a slightly different way," he said, and she was able to turn her attention to him long enough to meet his gaze. He was worried, she realized, and it made her feel warm from her fingers to her toes that he cared for her so much.

"I'm going to put some shower gel in the tub, so there are bubbles. If you want me to leave at any point, just let me know. I'm going to turn around, and I want you to get undressed and get in. Can you do that for me?"

She'd never seen Ressler be this gentle, this kind. But his blue eyes were filled with concern and his hair, as well as the rest of him, was disheveled in a way that suggested she was his only concern at the moment.

"Yeah," she finally mumbled, and started pulling at her clothes as he reached past her, squeezing something into the hot, running water that caused bubbles to erupt from the surface immediately. Suddenly, the room smelled of _Ressler_, warm, woodsy, and musky all in one.

Obviously it was his shower gel he'd put in, but all Liz could think about was the overwhelming smell of safety and familiarity.

"Are you done?" he asked, and she could see him running his hands through his hair as she undressed. His back was to her as she stripped her shirt and bra.

She was presented with a problem, though, when she tried to unbuckle her jeans. Her fingers were shaking so hard she couldn't shove the button through the hole, and the frustration coupled with the anger at herself for being unable to handle her feelings or her bodily reactions and weakness caused her to yell out, tears clouding her speech, "I can't do it!"

Ressler, ever the gentleman, wrapped a towel around her shoulders before dropping to the floor, his fingers taking the place of hers as he deftly undid the button, pulled down her zipper, and gently tugged her pants down her legs. His gazed remained firmly on her feet as he helped her step out of them.

"Got it from here?" he whispered, and she nodded, pulling off her panties as he turned around again.

Slipping beneath the water was like heaven. She moaned at the feeling of the hot water washing over her every aching muscle as she relaxed into it. Ressler turned of the tap, and suddenly it was very quiet.

The sounds of her splashing the water as she moved around and his rough breathing were all she could hear.

"Thank you," she said quietly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and trying not to flinch as a drop of water rolled down her cheek.

"Don't mention it."

"No, Ress, really. I shouldn't be this pathetic. You shouldn't have to deal with me being this pathetic."

Ressler turned around, meeting her shamed gaze. She was shocked by the determination she read in his gaze.

"Liz, don't. Don't apologize. You're not pathetic. I've seen men trained for combat situations break under less in the field. Waterboarding is pure torture, it's designed specifically to instill fear in a person, to cause the panic of drowning over and over and over again. The helplessness, the fear, the panic as your lungs slowly fill with water. You're in shock, exhausted, and holding up surprisingly well considering how fucked up this day has been. Let me be here for you now, because I wasn't there for you earlier."

Liz wanted to tell him that there was no way he could have been, that he shouldn't have expected to, that there was nothing he could have done to stop Luther, but she didn't have the energy.

Instead, she grabbed for his shower gel and squirted it onto a rag. She lathered it up as much as possible before running it over her shoulders.

Her hands - damn them - were still shaking, and she dropped the rag before she'd even cleaned one arm.

She sobbed in frustration, wanting this to just be over, wanting to look at her hands and see them steady, not shaking. To be able to look at the water and not be afraid.

But as she reached for the rag again, another (larger, warmer, steadier) hand reached out and took it from her.

"If you're uncomfortable, let me know," he murmured.

He ran the rag over her shoulders, nudging her forward so he could clean her back and neck as well. She shivered under his touch, surprised by how comfortable she was under his caress.

Something had been changing between them, and she didn't know if anything would ever be the same. He touched her with such gentle love, pure and soft and just enough to make her cry from the overwhelming sensations. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, and when he noticed he simply brushed them away with a small smile.

"Stand up," he said, and she did. He washed her legs and then her feet one by one.

She had never felt more cared for in her entire life. She'd never felt more safe. It was too much, filing her to the brim and overflowing in the form of tears.

She sat back down, and as she did, he reached one hand up to gently grasp her face.

"Liz," he said, and it was they only warming she got before he gently pressed his lips to hers. The act of washing her had not been a sexual one, it had been an act of love. But there was no mistaking the intention behind the kiss, and Liz moaned quietly as he pulled away far too soon.

"Not today, not now. Maybe even not soon. I don't know if you're ready. Hell, I don't even know if I'm ready. But," he paused and even though he hadn't asked her anything she already knew her answer.

It would always be yes.

"But one day, Liz. I want to tell you everything I feel for you. I want to kiss you again and tell you everything. Would that be alright?"

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as he caressed her cheek.

"Yes. Yes, please."

He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her temple before shoving his body off of the floor. He handed her a towel and turned to give her some privacy to dry off.

It was the first night he didn't sleep on the couch. He stayed with her, holding her through the nightmares and taking comfort in the knowledge that she was there, a solid weight in his arms. Not just a dream he'd wake up from. It was a reality that they'd found her and saved her and that she wouldn't leave him.

The best part was waking up to her sleepy smiles and warm body.

"Good morning."

The world had taken much from him, but he hoped that this was something he could hold onto forever.

* * *

Welp. This chapter. Was a lot. I am particularly fond of it. Let me know what you think!

_**Please Review!**_


	6. One Time He Stayed

_+1_

_(Tag to The Deer Hunter)_

_"I have more than enough pain of my own- don't ask me to feel yours."_

The words reverberated around in her skull as she sat in her car (one hour had past, she was well on her way to two hours as she sat outside of the police station, unable to make a decision).

Her decision, ultimately, would affect more than just her. It would affect Director Cooper, Aram, her team, …

_Ressler._

He shouldn't have been the deciding factor, she tells herself later, after she talks to Reddington and tells him about the fulcrum. Ressler shouldn't have such a strong hold over her emotions, her decisions, her life. But he does, and she can no longer deny it -

_… the feel of his lips on hers, his loving touch, how he always lets her through his door even if the day has been just as (or more so) fucked up for him..._

He is important to her, and she can't deny the way her chest had tightened when he'd spoken to her, his words so harsh, so very different than how he had spoken to her in the days leading up to the fight. His words were not soft, kind, as they had been when speaking of Tom, Audrey, the baby, her experience with Braxton. His words were angry, chosen specifically to penetrate the impenetrable wall she'd built to keep others from hurting her. They hurt, his words. She knew he has pain of his own - more than her, worse than hers - but he had always been willing to listen, to sympathize.

_Don't ask me to feel yours._

Somehow, all of this led to her driving a whole new direction than she'd originally planned. After she talked with Reddington, learned what he had done to help keep her out of jail, she had planned to go home (to the hotel, not really a home, but it would do for now) and take a long, hot bath and maybe drink a beer before going to sleep.

What she hadn't planned, however, was to find herself outside of Donald Ressler's front door.

Her hand was in the air, fist clenched tightly as she debated whether to knock or not. He was likely still angry, she considered, it having been only a few hours since he had yelled at her. But on the other hand, maybe he had calmed down, or would calm down when she told him she wasn't going to go through with it.

"Just get in here," a rough voice snapped, the door opening suddenly in front of her.

"How-"

He cut her off, waving his hand through the air as he closed the door behind her. (Slammed. Yep - he was still angry).

"I saw your car pull up."

A silence filled the room then, and it was neither comfortable or uncomfortable. It was charged - it felt like the room was spinning and the very air was electrifying her skin.

"I didn't do it," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes as she slowly took off her coat, dragging out the motion far longer than it usually took her (just for something to do, because this was nothing like the times she had visited in the past and she found herself uncomfortable).

"No shit," he replied, his voice still guarded and snappy. "Keen, what are you doing here? What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Liz asked, taking a step further into the room. (A step further into his personal space, closer, she realized after the fact, then she was probably comfortable with). "I wanted to tell you that I didn't get myself arrested, Ressler, because I was under the impression you would care."

Something seemed to snap inside Ressler, and for a moment, Liz was genuinely afraid of him. He lashed out, and at first she thought he might hit her. But instead his fingers wrapped in the fabric of her coat (really, she should have taken that off quicker) and pressed her to the wall. She could feel nothing but hard wood behind her, and the warm body of Ressler in front of her (which really wasn't fair, because it was distracting her from the conversation and she had things that needed to be said).

"Of course I_ care_, Liz," he said, and he was very close to yelling again. She could tell he was barely restraining himself. "I care_ too much_, dammit. I care that you're hurting, and that you're scared, and that you almost sent yourself to _fucking jail_. I care about all of it! I care that you _don't seem to care about yourself_ at all! Sometimes, it seems like you are determined to hurt yourself, or to ruin yourself. Sometimes - and it happens so rarely that I've never said anything about it, but I see it, and sometimes it seems like you're being reckless on purpose, and this was just like that. Liz, you almost turned yourself in for something you didn't do!"

Liz breathed deeply, the pressure of Ressler's hands on her shoulders warm and really, it should have been frightening, but she found it reassuring.

"I - " she faltered, not sure what to say. She licked her suddenly too dry lips and tried again (and, she didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to her wet lips and then back up to her eyes again. She definitely didn't miss that). "I'm sorry, I - "

She didn't get any further than that, however, because suddenly Ressler closed the rest of the space between them, transferred his hands from her shoulders to her face, and pressed his lips against hers.

The kiss was desperate, a way to remind himself that she was physically there, in his arms, and not in jail, locked behind bars, somewhere he couldn't reach her. It was hard, and demanding, and not at all sweet or loving.

He pulled away, breathing hard, smug when he saw the flush on her cheeks and the glaze in her eyes.

"Liz, you can't fucking _do things_ like that! I can't… _I can't_…" Now it was Ressler's turn to be unable to find words. His eyes drifted from hers, moving across her face, following a pattern laid out by his fingers as they traced her jaw, her cheeks, brushing over her eyelids. "I can't lose you, too."

Liz didn't know what to say, so she didn't speak at all. Instead, she leaned forward, capturing his lips again. This time, she took control of the kiss, starting slowly, her fingers tracing a pattern up his sides until she could tangle her fingers in his (carefully styled, perfectly blond) hair. He moaned softly, one of his hands reaching down to wrap around her waist and pull her even closer to him. She broke away once more, leaning back just far enough to look into his eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him breathlessly. "I was an idiot. I was thinking about me, and only me. I wasn't thinking about you, or anyone else, and it was selfish and not in a good way. I won't turn myself in, because the work we do is too important. The people on our task force are too important. _You're_ too important, Don. I can't lose you, either."

He dropped his head to her shoulder, and as she wrapped her arms around him, she could feel his body shaking.

"I shouldn't have yelled," he mumbled. "But I didn't know what to do. Liz, you scared the shit out of me, saying those things. Knowing that, if you turned yourself in, I'd never see you free again. They'd throw you into the system and you'd be locked away forever, and I'd be alone again, and it was fucking scary," he confessed, and she felt hot, wet tears slide from his eyes onto first her jacket then her skin. "I said that I didn't want to feel your pain, but that's not completely true. Liz, I can't help but feel your pain, because I want to make it go away. I want to take every bad memory and replace it with a good one. I want you to be loved, because you deserve that. I don't want to feel your pain because I don't want you to have pain. It's not fair, the shit you've been through. I wish I could take it all away."

Liz doesn't respond, because there's a lump in her throat and she can't speak. And even if she could, she's not sure what she could say. So instead she gently caresses his face, her fingers dancing across his heated skin. His eyes flutter closed, and she leans up and pressed another kiss to his lips.

This time, neither of them stop.

A gentle press of lips turns into a hand sliding up her back and cupping her head. Before she knows what's happening, his lips are traveling all over her face, down her neck, and her shirt is thrown to the side to reveal more skin to kiss. She's panting and embarrassed to be this exposed, but she's also overwhelmed, her heart hammering in her chest as Ressler worships every inch of skin he uncovers.

"R-Ress," she moans, her fingers tugging on his hair as his mouth teases her over the fabric of her bra. He grins against her skin - the fucker - and reaches behind her to deftly unclasp her bra in one flick of his wrist. He wastes no time at all in transferring his lips to her breast, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

"Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?" he murmurs, pulling away and leaving her wanting more.

"Y-yes," she pants, her fingers clasping tightly to the soft fabric of his flannel shirt. He grins and leads her through the living room.

They leave a trail of clothing behind them, reminding Liz of the story Hansel and Gretel and she almost laughs, but then he's sweeping her off of the floor and gently depositing her on his bed. His warm, familiar bed, and it's scary suddenly, what they're about to do and how he's touching her and making her feel so good.

Scary in the best possible way, because she's never wanted anything more in her entire life, but it's like walking blindfolded, because she has no idea where this will go and Ressler is the one leading her and she trusts he will only lead her to safe places, but she can't see where she's going and it's scary and exhilarating all at once.

"Is this alright?" Ressler asks, and she realizes now he's wearing only jeans and she can run her hands across the flat plains of his stomach. She's distracted (enthralled) by the way his muscles ripple under her fingertips.

"Yes," she whispers, and then, "I think I love you."

Ressler's breath hitches, and she mentally kicks herself, because that_ was not_ what she'd meant to say, not at all, and she can't take it back, and it's too soon, and -

Ressler laughs, and his breath is warm on her thigh (and how did he get down there so fast, and where are her pants?) and his words are punctuated by kisses, leading from her knee all the way up to her hips, resting a final kiss on her stomach as he speaks. "Liz, I_ know_ I love you. I have for a while. I was afraid to tell you. I didn't think you were ready."

She smiles, her eyes clouding with tears, because she had no idea she could have this again. More_, so much more_ than last time, because the love is real and she can feel it and it's tangible in the space between them and the space that isn't between them because his body is covering hers in the best possible way, and he's a warm, comforting weight against her.

"I love you," he whispers again, and she breathes out a soft moan as his hands begin to explore. She's been so overwhelmed, she hadn't realized until that moment that she had lost the opportunity for much of her own exploration, and wastes no time in flicking the button on his jeans and pushing them down his calves with her own feet, giggling softly as they catch on his shoes and he has to pause (and it's a shame, really, because his lips and his breath and his fingers were doing wonderful things to the flesh of her stomach, her hips, and beginning to go lower when he has to reach down and yank at the laces of his shoes, kicking them and his pants and his socks off in one smooth motion).

"Is this OK?" he asks, and it's more than okay because suddenly he's touching her gently over the fabric of her panties, and she's moaning and arching off the bed, and he smiles against her stomach, the smug bastard, because he knows it's okay, he knows what he does to her (although, she'd gathered enough information in her exploration to know that he's just as affected, his arousal evident against her thigh).

"Yes, please, I- I need- "

She's unable to tell him what she needs (but he knows) and he won't remove the final offending article of clothing until she tells him, and she wants to kick him, but she wants him to make love to her more than she wants to tell him off for being a smug bastard.

"What do you need, babe? I'll be happy to give it to you," he murmurs, returning to reignite the trail of fire he'd created earlier, from her her stomach, past her breasts, and capturing her lips with his once more. She kisses him frantically, her hands tangling in his hair as she uses her feet to push at the seam of his boxers. He chuckles, reaching into his bedside drawer for something (thank goodness he remembered, because she didn't have the presence of mind to remember something as futile as protection) and figuring out the details as she catches her breath. He returns to tug her in for another kiss before going back to being a tease.

"What do you need, Liz?"

She groans, closing her eyes as she feels the weight of him against her leg, so close (so hard, ready for this but unwilling to give it to her until she asks).

"I need y-you inside of me," she whispers, and he kisses her again before he slowly (ever so slowly) slips her panties down, nudging her thighs apart. He wastes no time in making sure she's ready, wet and stretched, before he lines up and she's moaning as she's filled in a way she's never been filled before.

He's large, and it's tight, and she can finally revel in the fact that he's not as in control as he'd seemed, because suddenly he's dropped his head to her shoulder and he's shaking, trying not to move, letting her get used to his size because he knows (and she tries not to let his sweet consideration overwhelm her) that it's been awhile for her and he doesn't want to hurt her.

"Can I-" he mumbles, and she nods, her hands reaching out and pulling him into another kiss as he begins moving. It feels so good, and he moves slowly, drawing it out, kissing her lips, her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks, brushing her lips down her neck as she runs her hands along every inch of skin she can find, her legs wrapping around his waist to encourage him to move faster.

He does, and the only sound in the room for quite a while is their breath, mingled and erratic, and the movement of their bodies.

She isn't going to last long, not this time, not the first time, and it's okay because she doesn't think he will, either. Already his movements are becoming more erratic and she's pretty sure she's already there.

"Ress!" she cries out, and she's there, on the proverbial cliff, tumbling over, bring him with her, and he cries out her name, shuddering once, twice, before he collapses, making sure not to fall onto her but beside her. He breathes heavily for a moment, then cleans up, tying off the condom before throwing it in the trash beside the bed and gathering Liz into his arms. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close, and tucks her head into the space between his head and shoulder as he breathes heavily.

"God, I love you," he whispers, and he's kissing her neck again, everywhere he can reach, and she's crying softly, overwhelmed with what just happened and so in love with the man in bed beside her that she can't find words.

"Hey," he whispers, and he pulls back enough to gently wipe away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Are you ok? Was that ok?" He doesn't think they crossed any lines she didn't want to, but he has to make sure (ever the gentleman he is).

She nods, smiling wetly, kissing him chastly. "I didn't think I could feel this way again. I love you so much and it scares me, Don. It scares the shit out of me."

He chuckles, kissing the top of her head and wrapping the blanket around their bodies. Now that they're not moving, he's chilly and he knows she is, too. "It scares me, too," he confides in her. "Every morning, knowing you're going into that awful place, chasing those awful people, in danger, being hurt, almost killed." He pauses, running his fingers through her hair as he considers. "I wouldn't want anyone else to be there with you, though. I'm glad I'm your partner. I'm scared, of losing you, of fucking this up, of a lot of things. But it's worth it," he mumbles, and she nods, because it is.

It's worth the fear and uncertainty. To be loved and held and warm in his embrace, with his arms around her and his body pressed against hers from head to toe, keeping her safe. Holding her together.

"Go to sleep," he says, stilling the movement of his hand in her hair and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

She thinks she might have told him she loved him, but she can't remember because she's exhausted, both from the day and from their activities. She falls into a dreamless sleep, cocooned in his arms and, of all things, remembering the words that first brought her here, that brought them together. That were no longer true, but important in the fact that they set into motion a chain of events that led her to the only place she wanted to be.

_I didn't know where else to go._

* * *

*tear* I'm so sad it's over! I have a few quick requests of my wonderful readers!

1\. Please let me know how I did! I've never written a scene like this before. I always skip past it in the fade to black style. I don't do explicit, though, so many details were glazed over. (BUT YOU GET THE IDEA!) =)

2\. I LOVE to write, but am out of ideas! If you can think of something you'd like to see in the Nowhere Else to Go universe (I.E. a universe where Keen/Ressler are together after the episode The Deer Hunter) please leave it in the comments, and I'll try and write it! I love writing from prompts.

3\. _**Please Review!**_


End file.
